


Dress to Impress

by Ishti



Category: Aveyond
Genre: College AU, F/M, First Kiss, Modern AU, RL can have a little schmaltz. as a treat, Reimagined Scene, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:01:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22319068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishti/pseuds/Ishti
Summary: You ain't slick, Lars.Winter Exchange gift for Crystallineflowers!
Relationships: Rhen Pendragon/Lars Tenobor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crystallineflowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystallineflowers/gifts).



> HAPPY WINTER, CRYS! This was so much fun to write that I almost wanna keep this AU going. Thanks for the fantastic inspiration, and it was my pleasure to write for you again!
> 
> Modern Lars' sprite looks a mess now that he's shrunk; I should upload him somewhere so everyone can see how good he actually looks

  
  


On a cloudy day in February, somewhere deep in the bowels of the L. Tiberius Library of Higher Literature, tucked away within a roughly circular fortress of hard-backed books haphazardly stacked and organized, huddled two undergrads. One sat in a metal chair hunched over a fine-printed textbook, his green hair a curtain obscuring his concentrated brow; the other, cross-legged on the floor, leaned her back against the seat as she held her book at arm’s length, a long braid slung over one shoulder. With an exasperated sigh, she slammed the volume shut and tossed it aside. It landed precariously atop a three-book-high pile.

“Watch it,” muttered Lars, not moving a millimeter save for his eyes, which kept scanning the page without skipping a beat.

“You watch it,” said Rhen, fatigue pricking her strong English accent. She rubbed her forehead and took another book from the half-empty cardboard box beside her.  _ “The Aerodynamics of the Humanoid Figure? _ Didn’t you already skim this one?”

“Maybe we grabbed two copies by mistake.”

“Maybe.” Rhen sighed, idly shifting books around to read their titles. “Ugh… we’ve been down here so long I can barely remember what our stupid project is even about.”

Lars paused for a second, squinting his eyes. “The… relationship between human motion and physics through a sociological lens.”

“I do  _ not _ have the attention span for this.”

“Hey; you’re the one who wrote the project proposal.” Lars sat up and shut his textbook, sticking a thumb between the pages to keep his place.

“I know,” groaned Rhen, hugging her legs to her chest.

“You wanna stop?”

“I mean….”

“...you’re not gonna say no.”

“I am not.”

Rising to his cramping feet, Lars dog-eared the book and set it on the chair. He gave his shoulders and his legs a good stretch. Rhen extended her own legs slowly, heels bumping into the makeshift wall, and leaned forward to grab her toes.

_ “Oh-- _ did you hear something positively  _ explode _ in my back somewhere?”

“Yeah, it was a pretty loud crack.” Lars nudged a tome out of the way with his foot. “So, you make any progress?”

Rhen stood, humming thoughtfully. “Dunno. I stopped taking notes about an hour ago, to tell you the truth.”

“Me, too.”

“Why are collaborative projects so much harder than solo research?”

“I know, right? Two times the manpower, a hundred times the work.” Lars maneuvered through one of the mostly-clear walkways out of the book stronghold. “Maybe because it’s cross-discipline?”

“And our disciplines are so… disparate.” Rhen followed, stepping lightly around a very old text lying open on the carpeted floor. “Performing arts. Physics. Honestly, we each should have chosen different partners. Danny’s in architecture, you know.”

Lars crouched to pick up his blue peacoat from a chair outside the “wall”, hiding his face. “You mean, like, your ex Danny?”

_ “I mean, like, _ Danny who’s been one of my closest friends since  _ birth.” _ Rhen zipped up her jacket. “But yes, we could focus on that.”

“Elini’s a dance major, isn’t she?” Lars deflected. “Elini… your sorority sister with the last name I can’t pronounce?”

“Well, yes she is, but that’s too similar to performing arts for the interdisciplinary project.”

“Hm.” Lars stuffed his hands into his pockets and leaned against a bookshelf. “This is such a weird graduation requirement for an undergrad program.”

“I dunno; I think it makes sense.” Rhen shrugged. “Prep for grad school or the real world or whatever.”

Lars looked thoughtful for a moment, his intense brown eyes pondering behind a protective veil of green. After a moment, he shrugged back at Rhen and began walking toward the main staircase.

“Wait,” said Rhen, “are we just going to leave all--all  _ this _ sitting here?” She waved an arm at the encyclopedic landscape behind them.

“Yeah. The librarians’ll leave it.”

Rhen hurried after him. “They’ll  _ leave _ it?”

“They don’t touch my stuff.”

“Um, Lars, you can’t keep leveraging the fact that your mum donated however much money to the university.”

“Hey, it’s worked so far. So… Chipotle?”

“We got Chipotle three days last week,” objected Rhen.

Lars rolled his eyes.  _ “You _ suggested Chipotle three days last week.”

They reached the top of the stairs, suddenly bathed in the dull light of February streaming through the library’s floor-to-ceiling windows. Rhen shielded her eyes. “Is it still Monday?”

“Unfortunately, I think it is.”

The two paused for a moment to reacclimate to the daylight, watching the cars zoom by on the tireless metropolitan street outside. Rhen dug through her pocket to find her gloves, and Lars rocked slowly from side to side.

“Oh…” muttered Rhen. “The stupid Greek social is on Wednesday. I forgot.”

“This is why you were never chapter president,” Lars reminded her with a smirk.

“Sod off, you independent; I get to live in a big fancy house. And you don’t. Except when you’re home on holiday.”

She stuck out her tongue, and Lars chuckled with a shake of his head.

“Lunch, Rhen?”

“Um… Shake Shack has that special running on Mondays.”

“Oh, yeah. Is that what you want?”

“Yeah; come on.”


	2. Chapter 2

Rhen and Lars got lunch, then walked partway home together. They split at Chicken Street as Rhen headed towards sorority row on Veldarah Avenue and Lars trudged toward the dormitory square along Ghalarah Lane.

He walked down Chicken a little further before the towering dorms were in view. He lived in Mansion Hall, a fifteen-story, brick-and-glass high-rise which overlooked Sedona Street. He turned onto Sedona, shoving his numb hands into his pockets. There was a pretty popular shopping district along Sedona with a bunch of bougie boutiques which had just popped up the previous year, slowly edging out the mediocre campus pizza joints. Half of the multicultural center on Sedona had been converted into an upscale hotel for visiting parents and guardians. Lars’ mom stayed there last spring; she spent a good hour complaining to him that the complimentary soap smelled too strongly of geraniums.

Not many pedestrians wandered the broad sidewalk along Sedona Street on that chilly February afternoon. Many students were in class, and a significant handful more were sending apologetic emails pretending to be sick in their warm, languorous bedrooms. Lars breathed a spiraling cloud into the stillness of the street. He didn’t need to be in class until five thirty--maybe he’d take a nap, too.

A sweep of wind brushed his hair against an unadorned ear, reminding him that he’d lost his earring the week before. It made him feel naked. He glanced at the glossy storefronts and, after a moment, slowed his pace to walk a little closer. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do than window-shop.

Derez’s Diamonds carried locally hand-crafted jewelry and scarves and whatnot, updated seasonally by the owner. A few sets, dripping with semi-precious stones, proudly posed on the other side of the window. One necklace with a massive black opal pendant seemed to glitter menacingly through the glass, unnerving Lars for a second. He waved it off and found the earring display close to the door. Beads... chandeliers…  _ feathers-- _ apparently gaudy was the wave this winter. Lars rolled his eyes and kept walking.

Sedonan Style Market was next door. Hardly a “market”; it was just a little boutique with some dresses and other designer women’s wear. Idly, Lars took his hand out of his pocket and dragged a finger across the window as he walked. A tasteful woven gold necklace paired with delicate, dangling earrings caught his eye as his finger trailed just overhead. He stopped to admire them for a moment before his eyes drifted to the jewelry’s backdrop.

A tea-green dress, layered with pale golden embroidery twirling up from the hem, stood at a modest height on a headless white mannequin. The same lacelike embroidery covered the bodice from the waist to the sweetheart neckline underneath, rising up to the collarbones and ending in two simple cap sleeves. The light green fabric shimmered a little beneath its lacy golden veil.

Lars swept his eyes over the dress. It fit the small mannequin well, he thought casually, but based on just the shoulder seam and the hips, it wasn’t quite there; it was actually much, much closer to Rhen’s size.

He blinked, then blushed.  _ What--? That’s such a weird thing to think! Or know! Get it out of your head, creep. _

If he was honest with himself, which was a rare occurrence, it was hard for Lars to keep his eyes off of Rhen. She was beautiful--gorgeous-- _ stunning, _ and it wasn’t as if Lars didn’t know that. She was unquestionably the most attractive girl on campus, outside and in. She was so genuine and effortlessly charming. No one else could make an anxious loser like him feel so… relaxed. So wanted.

Lars glanced at the dress again, realizing he was still standing, awkwardly spaced out, in front of this storefront.

_ Okay... Rhen would look amazing in that dress. _

His heart suddenly pummeling, Lars wrenched his eyes away from the window. It didn’t matter; the image of Rhen in that dress, walking, gesturing, twirling around with her braid airborne behind her, singing and laughing and teasing him amicably about his taste in music, wouldn’t wipe itself from his vision. He power-walked across the street to the dormitory square, too flustered even to check for oncoming traffic along the two-lane road.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow children calm down

“I feel like we still haven’t accomplished anything.”

Rhen smushed her cheek against her palm, elbow resting on the windowside Chipotle table, and took a dejected sip of her Sprite. They needed a first draft by Friday, and they hadn’t even started writing yet.

“This is pretty on-brand for us,” Lars offered. “We always pull it out between eight and zero-point-five hours before it’s due.”

He leaned back in his bench and tried to smile. Rhen and Lars historically had to take turns fueling their collective positive outlook, ever since they met in their Calculus class fall semester of freshman year. After three and a half years, nothing had changed. They always passed when they hustled together.

“We keep digging this hole deeper!” Rhen complained. “We just add more and more books to the pile, and we haven’t really  _ synthesized _ anything other than what might legally be considered a keep!”

“Give us a little credit. It’s definitely a donjon.”

_ “It’s a shitload of books!” _ Rhen sipped her mostly-empty Sprite. “And why the hell aren’t we allowed to use online sources, anyway? I mean, for God’s sake, it’s  _ twenty twenty!” _

Lars stretched. “We’re gonna pull this out. We have plenty of time. I’m not worried.”

Rhen huffed through her nose.  _ “You _ have plenty of time. You don’t have anything else going on right now. I’ve got a charity event to co-host, fencing club president duties, choir practice, I’m TAing for Professor Lorad’s post-colonial lit class, and--hey--I’ve got a fucking  _ dance  _ tomorrow, and I still don’t have  _ anything to wear!” _

Her forehead thudded against the table. Half the patrons in the Chicken Street Chipotle turned to look at her.

Lars sat forward and stroked Rhen’s lavender head, taking care not to disrupt her braid. “There’s stuff you can do about all of that. You’re on the Tri-Sigma event planning committee, so why not just delegate some of the prep duties to someone else?”

Rhen raised her head to glare at Lars. “The duties have already been delegated!”

“And? Ask to trade with someone; it’ll all get done. Tournaments are set for the season; all  _ you _ gotta do is put on a good face for the rest of the club, and you’re great at making people feel good. Choir practice doesn’t give you homework--”

“But I have practice on Thursday!”

“And you don’t have a concert for a couple months, right? Just skip it, for once. Your voice is perfect.”

“Next you’re going to tell me to practice in the shower.” Rhen snorted.

“If it makes you happy. I’ll grade tests with you after Electricity and Magnetism tonight.”

“You don’t know shit about post-colonial literature, Lars.”

“Okay, then get Peter to do it. And the party thing is in the bag; all you have to do is smash some tequila and laugh at the frat guys’ unfunny jokes. And avoid that awful Lydia chick as much as possible.”

“She’s a Tri-Delt. They’re  _ hosting _ tomorrow. I can’t  _ avoid _ her.” Rhen crossed her arms. “And I don’t have a stitch to wear, Lars.”

“Come on, have you even looked?” Lars rolled his eyes. “That designer shop on Sedona has a cocktail dress  _ right _ in the window that is  _ exactly _ your size.”

It took a few moments of heavy silence for Lars to realize things had just gone from casual to very awkward.

Rhen squinted at him, her frown somewhere between confused and uncomfortable. “Lars. How the  _ hell _ do you know my dress size?”

Lars blushed hard for the second time in twenty-four hours. He waved his hands frantically. “It’s--it’s not like I go through your closet or anything!” he protested. “I just--you know--you know how I always had to help Rona buy her clothes and stuff; I--I have a good eye for measurements and, you know, also fabrics and--” Lars gulped “--and whatever!”

Rhen laughed, short, in disbelief. “So you just… look at someone, and you can tell their hip to waist ratio or whatever?”

“Um.” Lars turned his face away, willing her not to see how red he was, because yes, he could figure out someone’s measurements, but only if he spent a  _ lot _ of time staring at their body, and he was absolutely not going to admit--

“Whatever.” Rhen stood and dumped her empty cup into the trash can beside their table. “I’ve got seminar. I’ll see you after Electricity and Magnetism.”

Lars cleared his throat. “Uh… m-my place?”

“Yes. Please.”

Rhen headed for the door to Chicken Street, fully aware of the heat in her cheeks and the trembling lightness in her chest.


	4. Chapter 4

Tuesday night came and went, leaving behind the faint scent of shrimp fried rice and sweet-and-sour soup. Rhen had to admit, the longer she mused on Lars’ suggestions, the more she realized he was objectively right. She couldn’t necessarily  _ solve _ her problems in four days, but she could make things easier for herself, and everything would be okay.

Lars… he could be so irrational sometimes, but Rhen knew she could get just as hard-headed when she was stressed. That was probably why they worked so well together.

It was hard for Rhen not to think of him while she put her hair up in the mirror, even with all the giggling and squealing happening on the other end of the room and all through the hallways. The weird thing he said at lunch the day before--it should have pissed her off, probably, but something about Lars discerning such an intimate thing about her made her stomach buzz with tiny honeybees instead. Rhen shut her eyes for a second and realized she wished he was with her. Her eyes opened, and she rolled them at the cloying sentiment of it all. She fastened a bobby pin to her scalp and took another from her mouth, holding her braid in place with her other hand. Someone screamed in the bathroom.

“Oh my  _ god, _ Rhen!” gushed Yvette, whose head popped through the doorway. “You look  _ gorgeous! _ I thought you didn’t have a dress!”

“I just bought this today,” Rhen replied, keeping her head as still as possible.

“I love it! It’s a ballsy move, though!” Yvette stepped closer and lowered her voice as if discussing sensitive, confidential information. “You know that’s  _ Lydia’s _ color, right?”

“Just because it’s Lydia's hair color doesn’t mean that it  _ belongs _ to her.” Rhen plucked another bobby pin from between her teeth. “And it's not even the same color.”

Yvette tittered. “Okay, but she’s gonna give you shit for it! In her weird Lydia sort of way.”

“Sure. Hey, can you tuck that bit falling out?”

“Mhm!” Yvette propped Rhen’s hair up as Rhen maneuvered the last bobby pin into place.

"You know that girl Emma on my fencing team has light green hair, too."

"I'm sure Lyds would hate her."

“Hey, Yvette!” called another sister from the hallway. “Shots! C’mon!”

“Ooh! Okay, girl, I’ll get out of your hair.” Yvette winked at Rhen in the mirror and clip-clopped away on her four inch heels.

Rhen grabbed a decorative comb from the vanity and tucked it into her braided up-do. It was the perfect shade of gold to match the lacelike embroidery on her new dress. Her dangling earrings and simple, woven necklace were exactly the right length for her neckline. The dress fit so impeccably that she wished she could wear it every day. It looked and felt like a soft, gentle hand stroking her ribcage, her waist, her hips, her thighs.

The thought made her stomach flutter. Why was she reacting so...  _ strongly...  _ to a  _ dress? _ She had to focus on something else.

The front door slammed downstairs, and the house was suddenly much quieter. Rhen checked her makeup one last time before snatching her clutch purse and making her way down, her footsteps echoing through the empty house. She put on her coat and scarf and left the house, locking the door behind her.

Rhen sighed. She wasn’t averse to a good party, even with the Tri-Delts, but she was so restless; she had so much to do, so much on her mind--fencing... choir... the interdisciplinary project. Lars was probably at the library right now, if she knew him, marking up school property with a blue pen even though he’d been told off for it at least half a dozen times before. Rhen remembered when Lars would loudly get on anyone’s case if he thought he was doing all the work in a group project--there was the John incident, and then… the other John incident… and she’d cut corners with him a fair few times herself. But he stopped getting angry, even though he was still unarguably studying and working harder than anyone he’d ever studied or worked with. He’d softened up so much since freshman year.

And he was probably doing it again; plugging away into the wee hours while his partner went to a party, while she pictured him every time her dress settled around her knees, radiating five hundred degrees in the flurrying February night.

Rhen ambled down the sidewalk toward the lights and noise on the next block, telling herself it would be more dangerous to walk quickly in high heels. She stopped at the crosswalk. There they were; a whole intramural organization of extroverts who made her feel connected--who supported her. Who was there to support  _ Lars? _ He had  _ friends, _ but he wasn’t close with anyone like he was with her. He’d either leave the library alone and walk home alone in a slumbering city to a single-occupancy dorm room, or he’d fall asleep on the chair in the fortress after closing hours. Rhen knew that was a possibility; he stashed a blanket and a toothbrush under one of the bookshelves.

A car honked from the road to her right, its driver waving for her to cross. Rhen looked down. Without really thinking about it, she turned on her heel, crossed Veldarah Avenue, and marched down the cross-street towards Chicken. Snow tickled her nose as the party shrunk away behind her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lars... you're a little slick actually.

  


The library was dim, silent, and freezing. All of the librarians had gone to a paid training thing out of town, and the inconsiderate substitute librarian turned the thermostat to sixty and went to lunch for five hours. Lars didn’t expect it to get any warmer now that the building was locked up (or, rather, now that it was _supposed_ to be locked up, because Lars had gone upstairs to unlock the door when he was sure the coast was clear.)

Every book on motion, human anatomy, acting, art, and stage lighting had been thoroughly scoured, and Lars had to admit now that they were running out of options. Perched on the chair with his knees in the air, heels clinging to the edge, Lars flipped through his notebook with his blue pen between his teeth. The words seemed static before his eyes, offering no meaning; he couldn’t focus at all.

He heard the door upstairs slam. His gut leaped, at once terrified of being caught or robbed, and also believing for the briefest of seconds that his research partner had come to help.

 _She’s at a party,_ he reminded himself. _She has other obligations and you should probably just go hide in the bathroom._

Lars was halfway to the men’s room behind the astronomy section when he realized no robber’s shoes would make that clacking noise as they hurried down the stairs.

“Lars!” called Rhen, her voice echoing pleasantly around the library’s high ceiling. She stepped into the basement. “Lars, are you there?”

Eyes wide with shock, Lars reemerged from astronomy and peered around the corner. It really _was_ her, braid done up, lips pale pink and eyelids a dusty rose gold--and the dress peeked out from her open coat, dazzling him as she pulled the coat’s sleeves from her arms. Lars’ heart skipped a beat. It really _had_ been made for her.

Rhen spotted him, and he broke out of his haze. She looked so serious.

“You _are_ here,” she sighed, partially out of disappointment, and partially relief. “You ought to be home, Lars! I think it’s going to snow proper before morning.”

Lars glanced up and down between her eyes and her mouth, feeling his pulse accelerate. “Yeah,” he said, playing it cool. “I oughta be.”

They stood a few feet from one another for a long, awkward moment, both of them turning crimson. How weird it was for each to feel so distant and anxious in the presence of the other. They were best friends. They did each other’s homework, ate each other’s ice cream, lay with the head of one in the lap of the other as they watched Netflix originals with all the lights off. Even after all the time they spent pissed off at one another freshman year, to one another, they were comfort.

“But--” began Lars, pausing for a deep breath, _“you_ oughta be at your social.”

Rhen sniffed. “I decided you were preferable to Lydia.”

They both chuckled. Rhen stepped closer and tossed her jacket and purse into the fortress. Lars watched the curve of her back, willing his niggling crush to slink back into the shadows where it had lurked for a year and a half.

Rhen shivered and looked back at Lars. “How can you study in here? It’s all of, like, ten degrees, and it’s so dark; reading in here’s bad for your eyes!”

“Eh. I kind of like the light.” Heat lanced through Lars’ chest. “It’s, uh, sorta ro--um, r...relaxing.” _Damn it; just flirt if you’re going to flirt, you pansy._

A little half-smile poked at Rhen’s lips. “I guess so. But… but you really study like this?”

“Uh, well, with variable success.”

They both chuckled again, Rhen fidgeting with her hands. Was she showing off by coming down here? God knew she looked incredible, and… it almost felt like, now that she wasn't going to the party, it was all _wasted._ But he saw her in this get-up, and he knew that she’d chosen it all--her hair off her neck, the subtle sheen in her lipstick, the decorative comb she’d bought when he’d given her a tour of his hometown--specifically for him.

“So how’s it gone?” she asked. “The studying.”

“To be honest, I think I hit a dead end.” Lars sighed. “I can’t put any of this stuff together. Physics, the stage--I mean, there’s physics everywhere, but what do I have to say about this other than ‘yep, physics happens there, too’?”

Rhen frowned. “I’m sorry. I know you’ve been working so much, and I’m… all over the place. I’m not really helping.”

Lars laughed. “Are you kidding? Just having you here jolts my brain.”

“I definitely think a little harder when you’re around, too.” _And I have for a damn year, and I’ve been pretending all this time that it’s a normal way to think around your closest friend._

By this point, Lars had acclimated to his racing heart, letting it do whatever it wanted when his gaze drifted to her almost-bare shoulders or the nook below her perfectly angular chin and straight jawline. He could have a normal conversation, no problem. “So… you got the dress I told you about.”

“Oh. Um, yeah, it was the only option, really. And--and you were right; it does fit me quite well.”

_I noticed._

“Almost seems a waste that no one is seeing it now, right?” Lars replied.

Rhen fidgeted a little too hard, and her finger cracked. “Well--well, you’re seeing it, right?”

His pitch lower than he wanted it to be, Lars murmured, “I am.”

The heat in the room was felt by several cockroaches beneath the theoretical physics shelf, who proceeded to creep out into the open for a little sunbathing.

“I wasn’t going to do much at the party, anyway,” Rhen said, staring at Lars’ hands. “Drink a little, talk to my friends in Kappa Delta, schmooze with the brothers.”

“Not dance?”

“I tend not to dance at Greek events.”

“Wait, why not? Don’t you have superhuman dancing skills?”

Rhen laughed quietly. “That’s pretty much why. I don’t want to make anyone feel bad, nor do I really want to be the center of attention.”

“Oh.” Lars’ hand found its way to his cheek of its own volition. “It just… really would be a waste, you know. Not to give that dress a dance.”

“I guess so.”

After another moment of palpable tension and uncertain eye contact, each of their own volition stepped forward, Rhen’s hand against Lars’ chest the instant his hand found her back. Slowly, their free hands met and clasped, Lars settling in one finger at a time, savoring each little squeeze, each touch he’d been dying for since the last time they’d danced, drunk under a summer moon in the backyard of his mother’s beach house.

Without music, they found their rhythm and stepped together; one, two, three, one, two, three. _Of course it’s a waltz,_ thought Rhen.

She wished she wasn’t so damn short. His face was up there, looking down at her, and something warmer than the rush of blood shone straight at her. She wanted to be near it, to live in his warmth. She had since last Valentine’s day, the first she’d spent alone since she broke up with Dameon, when Lars took her out as a friend to share a sundae at her favorite college bar and smiled at her with this rare, luminous smile before they said goodnight. That smile was more than sympathy, she always knew. It was right here before her, and it was love.

They were a little surer of their pace now, relaxing their bodies into the silent music. Lars grinned. He raised his arm and she twirled, leaning her head back, her layered skirt swishing around her legs.

Lars laughed as she came back around to face him. “Show off--”

Rhen stood on her toes and kissed him.

All of Lars’ breath left him at once. A little “mm” escaped his throat, and he closed his eyes as they kept swaying, his grip on her back pulling her closer, her hand clutching his shirt. Rhen lowered her heels back to the ground, and Lars leaned forward with her. With their lips pressed together, they felt the tension wash away, as relaxed as if they were supposed to do this all along.

They let go, eyelids fluttering and mouths ajar. Rhen remembered to breathe first. Lars gazed down at her like she was the most precious thing on Earth.

“I think I’ve always been showing off for you,” she murmured.

“You look so beautiful.”

Rhen flicked away a tear from her eye. “You do, too.”

Lars guffawed, pulling away a bit. “What?” he choked. “I’m wearing a New Order hoodie and ripped jeans!”

“Do you really have no idea how beautiful you are?”

Lars pushed hair away from his face. “I’ve never thought that.”

“I hope you start thinking it.”

Rhen pulled in and kissed him again. She was a little hungry this time, which was fine with him. They waltzed out of the way of a bookshelf, and Lars dipped her, their lips unlocking for just a second before finding one another again.

When Rhen came back up, they were still, their song over. Lars took his hand back, running it up her arm to meet her grasp at his chest. She loosened her grip, and he stroked her fingers with his thumb.

“You’re a bit more romantic than anyone could’ve guessed,” said Rhen.

Lars hummed. “I’ve spent a fair amount of time imagining this. And then repressing it.”

“I know what you mean.”

“ _‘Everyone thinks this stuff about their attractive friends!’_ ” Lars mocked himself.

“ _‘You’re just lonely and you see him all the time!’_ ”

“Exactly!”

Rhen laughed. “We’re a disaster.”

“Maybe not anymore.”

Lars let go of her hands, and slowly, she let go of his chest. He smiled at her, glowing.

“You know… I think that dance helped me out of my research funk,” he said. “You gave me a little inspiration.”

“Interested in the motion of my body?” Rhen replied, feeling the blood rise to her face.

“Oh… very.”

Lars’ eye glinted, and Rhen bit her knuckle to keep from giggling like a child. “Well, you--you’re not wrong; perhaps we should focus on dance.”

“Sure. But I think I need a little more inspiration.”

The giggle escaped. “What does _that_ mean?”

Lars’ face softened. “Can I be your date for the Valentine’s charity dance?”

“Wait--” Rhen gaped. “You… you want to go to a _thing?_ A _sorority_ thing?”

“I want to do Valentine’s with you for real this time. And I want to see the events you work so hard to plan.”

“Lars. You _hate people.”_

“Yep. Especially frat people!”

Rhen shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t understand you, but I would really like to be with you. I… always do.”

“You’re just used to me.” Lars grinned.

The air between them cooled a couple degrees as they stood apart, letting their nascent romance sink in. Rhen shivered and looked at her fingers. “I don’t remember painting my nails this purplish color.”

Lars came closer and rubbed her arms up and down, and she pressed into his hoodie. “It’s cold as shit in here,” agreed Lars. “And you’ve got a lot of skin showing compared to me.”

“Don’t stop doing that,” mumbled Rhen.

“I think it’s really snowing now.”

“I don’t want to walk home.”

Lars pulled Rhen into a gentle hug. “So don’t.”

“Is that blanket big enough for both of us?” Rhen asked.

“Probably.”

Rhen made a little noise of protest as Lars pulled away to take off his hoodie. “Cold.”

Lars dropped the hoodie over Rhen’s head and stood back as she found the arms. A few strands of her hair crept out of her braided updo. He smiled; she was adorable. He smiled a little harder because he never, ever smiled this much.

“I know,” he said. “We’ll keep each other warm.”


End file.
